


Heat

by Ishipbadasschicks (Awal)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Related, Clexa, F/F, Fluff, It can be done, Jrots storytelling isn't welcome here, No Lesbians Die, Noone is punished for their sexuality, Relax - Freeform, Smut, Takes place somewhere in s3, alternate s3, before thirteen, canonesque
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-06-05 07:10:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6694621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Awal/pseuds/Ishipbadasschicks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's summertime in Polis,  but the sun isn't the only thing that's hot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heat

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr prompt: It's summertime in polis 
> 
> My muse works in mysterious ways

This heat wave has lasted too long.

People have presented with sunburns and rashes, passed out from fanning, and collapsed from heat strokes and dehydration. But now that Lexa has mandated everyone stay in their homes with shade and water, the stillness outside is eerie. 

Clarke stares blurrily at the bright rays of sunshine that stream into the room unfiltered. From her position, she can see the clear sky and miles of thick green trees reaching for space. Speckles of houses and re-purposed buildings litter the greenery, Clarke knows that behind their closed doors everyone is as miserable as she.

She allows her gaze to drift to Lexa and watches amused as the baby hairs framing her face transform from spiral curls to sharp edges just from Lexa's hand dragging roughly across her damp face and pushing them back.

Clarke mirrors the gesture wiping her hand across her own face, and pushing stray strands of hair away from her forehead.

Lexa and Clarke are sprawled across the furniture in Lexa's room. They take turns rotating between sipping and splashing themselves with warm water, and uselessly fanning themselves with gusts of thick hot air.

The stone and rock of the Polis tower usually signifies security, but now Clarke just feels like she is inside of a kiln burning alive.

When she had grumbled to Lexa about the audacity of her room being at the top of a skyscraper, emphatically expressing that heat rises, Lexa had only given her a non-commental grunt.

Since, they have sat quietly, no sounds save for their labored breaths exhaled in deep panting huffs through open mouths.

Clarke catches herself watching Lexa again, her gaze follows the exposed flesh of Lexa's arms down the length of her neck and to the jut of her collar bones.

Lexa's shoulders are bare- for the first time Clarke has seen-- and her arms look impossibly long uninterrupted by the usual layers of cloth.

Her exposed skin glistens with a flushed sheen that does nothing but punctuate her beauty by highlighting the caramel undertone that seems permanently etched in her skin

She continues her perusal by following the bend of Lexa’s arm all the way down to her hand.

Clarke's gaze immediately trips over the nob of her wrist bone and the soft skin pulled over the front of her hand to focus on Lexa's fingers.

Clarke has seen them enough to not be shocked by how slim and elegant they appear. How they are straight with beautiful pink nail beds and somehow manicured nails.

Lexa's fingers flow from a strong palm and it's easy for Clarke's mind to remind her of the power its movements.

Lexa has an unparalleled ability to silence a room with the raising of her hand, One finger tilted back signifying the carelessness of the gesture.

She has wielded daggers and swords with deadly grace, the weapons rolling across her fingers and jumping from her palms in beautiful twirls.

She has held Clarke's hand on several occasions with a gentleness that Clarke didn't know existed.

Yes, Lexa's hands could reach places Clarke can't, they could press from angles out of her grasp, they could be gentle and strong and unyielding inside of her while--

Clarke closes her mouth to swallow against the sudden dryness.

Jesus, it's apparently possible to get hotter, because there is a new heat building within Clarke, a molten puddle trudging lazily down her chest and into her clenching stomach and she knows it will sink lower.

Each jagged and deep pull of oxygen only fractures that heat and sends sharp bursts directly to her center.

Clarke is so busy trying not to rub her thighs together that she doesn't stop a desperate groan from sliding past her parted lips.

Lexa's eyes don't open from her position sprawled across a chair, She doesn't move her arm from where it’s flung across her face, But Clarke can hear the _knowing_ in her voice even without the luxury of reading her expression.

“There is a reason my eyes are closed, Clarke.” Her voice is deliciously husky and Clarke swallows a whimper at the jagged ache between her thighs.

Of course, she had seen the way Lexa's eyes darkened when she emerged in the thin cloth the grounders call shorts and a surprisingly comfortable spaghetti strapped shirt.

Clarke piled her hair into a messy bun trying desperately to keep herself from overheating and Lexa’s eyes had roamed the flesh peeking out from beneath her shirt with an intensity that Clarke could feel, a wanting that she watched Lexa tuck away.

This is horrible timing, Clarke thinks, There were cooler days when their rooms were lit by candles, when they were dressed in elegant garments or trading teasing smiles. Days where the ache built slowly and they could have lost themselves in something soft and gentle.

Instead, Clarke's body has chosen now to ignite. She is sweaty, on fire, and yet she is pulsing with the need to be hotter.

Her body floods with energy at her decision, she climbs to her feet and crosses the scorched ground separating them.

Clarke gently pulls Lexa's arm from its position across her face.

Lexa's eyes barely flutter open before Clarke is lifting her thigh off the armrest to re-position her in the chair and Clarke is properly straddling her lap.

Lexa's hands fall to her hips to steady her, “Clarke--”

Clarke presses her face to the damp juncture of Lexa's neck, even as her hand tangles in Lexa’s hair, folding it around her hand in a neat grip.

“You didn't tell me to close my eyes,” Clarke says softly.

Lexa recognizes the blame in Clarke's tone, and her next breath puffs out in an incredulous huff with a tilt of laughter.

Clarke tightens her thighs around Lexa at the sound, “I want--”

“Yes.” Not a question, not a request for an explanation. Lexa will give Clarke anything in her power.

Clarke groans and uses the hand gripping a fist full of hair to softly tug Lexa's head to the side. She sinks her teeth into the curve where her neck and shoulder meet.

Lexa's strong exhale skates across Clarke's skin and her hands softly rub Clarkes back and hips.

Clarke soothes the inflamed skin with her tongue before finishing her sentence. “I want you, Lexa”

Clarke meets Lexa's eyes and they suspend the moment by resting their foreheads together. She can feel Lexa's smile in the raise of her cheeks.

Clarke smiles in return, letting out a soft chuckle, “Don't act surprised.”

One of Lexa's hands tentatively cups the side of Clarke’s face, her palm on her jaw, her fingers curved and softly wrapping around Clarke's neck.

“This is unexpected, but very much wanted.” She says sincerely.

Lexa's thumb strokes her cheek, and her eyes deepen, “Clarke-”

Clarke's thighs clench around her, and she tips forward dropping a kiss to Lexa's lips.

“Stop saying my name like that if you want to take this slow.”

Lexa smiles and leans into another kiss.

Clarke uses all of her restraint to hold back the need burning through her veins and focus on kissing Lexa with something like the utter devotion she feels whenever the other woman so much as looks at her.

The kiss is gentle, languid, reverent like the hand caressing Clarke's cheek, encompassing like the hand holding the back of Lexa's neck.

When they separate Lexa's voice is more confident, “We can do slow later, Clarke. ”

Clarke re-attaches herself to Lexa's lips. She slides against her mouth, pressing with tongue and teeth, retreating, and returning with varying pressures and depths until Lexa's hands flex against her body and she groans into Clarke’s mouth.

Clarke is wet, embarrassingly wet, so she doesn't need any build up, Lexa's presence alone accomplished that task. Now, every noise from Lexa only ricochets through her body fanning the flames, and torturing her.

Clarke deepens the kiss and between their labored breathing and the wet smacking of their mouths, Clarke thinks she may combust without any direct friction encouraging the flame.

Lexa's hands separate and one falls to the curve of her ass. Clarke moans as Lexa pulls, increasing the pressure as Clarke continues grinding into her.

The other hand slides down the length of Clarke's thigh, and on its journey back up it slides inside of her shorts.

Clarke loses her breath as Lexa's hand touches the bare flesh of her upper thigh, Her entire body arches seeking more contact, her breasts push into Lexa, her head falls back.

Lexa's lips drop to the flesh of her neck, She experiments with pressures and successfully finds the perfect combination when she scrapes her teeth along the side of Clarke's neck and sucks roughly.

She is learning how to play Clarke like an instrument, learning exactly how to touch her to make Clarke involuntarily moan and rock her hips.

She is excelling, but Clarke is taut and restless.

Lexa's fingers stroke gently across Clarke’s outer lips, slipping through the abundant wetness. Lexa lets out her own moan at the discovery and Clarke’s thighs spread as she rocks towards Lexa's hand.

Clarke rolls her hips desperately and Lexa follows the swirl with her finger partially inside of her.

Clarke jerks hard, releasing a deep moan and a drawn out “Yess.”

She has a white-knuckled grip on Lexa’s hair, and she gives a sharp tug when Lexa slides the digit out and back in slowly, with a delicious twist. After several passes, Lexa adds a second finger and uses the hand on Clarke’s ass to pull her into a deep thrust. Clarke quakes against her, a shocked moan stuttering on her exhale.

Lexa leans forward, tipping Clarke back and slightly off balance. She holds her there securely, and her head drops to nuzzle, lick, and scrape her teeth across Clarke's thinly covered breasts while her fingers pump into her strongly, curling to rub her inner walls.

Clarke's thighs harden, the fingers buried in Lexa's hair lock, And Lexa changes angles so she can keep her rhythm and add a slow stroke against Clarke’s clit.

A sharp nip to Clarke's nipple and she comes, The beautiful near constant stream of sounds stop as Clarke sucks in a hard shocked gasp of air, and her body spasms, trembles, crumbles into ash and floats away.

Lexa holds her inside of her orgasm with alternating strokes against her clit and G-spot. Clarke comes for long enough that the pleasure becomes scary. Waves lap against her flesh, and she feels raw and without form.

When she comes back to herself and she can finally work her mouth again she releases the suffocating breath and shakily moans Lexa's name.

Lexa gently removes her fingers and takes a moment to kiss the corner of Clarke's lips, her jaw, and her cheek before she picks Clarke up by the backs of her thighs long enough to reverse their positions.

Lexa kneels between Clarke's legs pressing soft kisses to her thighs as she slides Clarke's shorts off.

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me on tumblr: IshipBadAssChicks 
> 
> Comments /kudos always welcome and appreciated ☺


End file.
